The deepest Fear
by Schattengestalt
Summary: Sherlock fears that he will lose John someday and he despairs when he believes his worst fear has come true. Johnlock.


**Author Notes**: I am sorry that I haven't posted anything in what feels like ages but RL kept me extremely busy. I hope I will be able to work on longer stories again soon but for now I hope you will enjoy this OS. =)

**The deepest Fear**

_It started completely harmless. Sherlock was just looking at some pollen samples under his microscope when John entered the kitchen._

_"Really, Sherlock? Again?"_

_Sherlock frowned at the exasperated tone of his friend's voice as he scribbled down his latest observations before he glanced up at John. One look at his friend was enough to deduce why he was in such a fool mood this morning._

_"You haven't slept well or much," Sherlock started as his gaze swept from John's tousled hair to the dark circles under his eyes. "Usually your hair is more dishevelled on your right side as you tend to spend most of your sleep lying on this side. Today though your hair is completely in disarray which means that you have turned and tossed in your bed. It wasn't a nightmare though or else you would have got up sooner. No something is on your mind that kept you from falling asleep. Maybe you are anxious because Sarah told you that she might have to let you go because the surgery can't afford to pay you. Or you are worried about Harry's recent relapse or..."_

_"Or maybe I am just annoyed by my mad flatmate who can't behave like a normal human being!"_

_Sherlock flinched when John slammed his favourite mug on the table and rattled the glassware. _

_"John," Sherlock started carefully as he turned fully towards his friend, "I don't understand..."_

_"Oh, you don't understand," John all but sneered as he met Sherlock's gaze. "Of course it's too much to ask of the great Sherlock Holmes to understand the needs of us mere mortals. He is so brilliant that he stands above the rest of all of us. That's why it's perfectly fine for him to store body parts in the fridge, play the violin at all times and to litter the whole kitchen table with his stupid experiments."_

_Sherlock could only stare wide eyed at John as his friend took an angry gulp of his tea. They had often argued about the storage of non-foods in the fridge and him playing the violin at night but he had assumed that they had come to an agreement. Sherlock put all the body parts in labelled containers and left at least one shelf free to use for the storage of actual food. And he limited his violin playing to slow and quiet songs at night. Since John hadn't complained in about a month Sherlock had assumed that they were good. Obviously though he had failed to notice the frustration that had built up in his friend for some time now. Combine that with John's lack of sleep and it was only to be expected that he would react so harshly._

_At least that was how Sherlock justified his friend's outburst to himself in an effort to calm his nerves as his heart jumped agitated against its ribcage. There was no need to get all worked up just because of one little outburst from John. Nevermind that his words made Sherlock's chest clench in pain._

_"We could get another fridge just for the storage of body parts if they bother you so much," Sherlock offered only to be met with a snort from John._

_"Or you know," John's lips were pressed into a thin line as he fixed Sherlock with a hard stare, "You could just stop storing body parts anywhere in our flat like a normal, sane person."_

_Sherlock clenched his hands in his lab. "Why does this bother you so much? I would assume that you as a doctor..."_

_A bitter laugh from John interrupted Sherlock midsentence. "I as a doctor," he quoted Sherlock's earlier words with a mocking undertone. "Just because I used to stitch people back together doesn't mean that I am not bothered by eyeballs in the microwave. Besides," John added with a hollow smile, "I am not much of a doctor anymore these days, am I?"_

_"What do you mean?" Sherlock shook his head in disbelief. Of course John was still a doctor although he couldn't work as a trauma surgeon anymore. That didn't make him less of a medical professional in Sherlock's eyes. Had someone else said something to him? If Sherlock figured out who had dared to disrespect John like this then..._

_"Obviously I am nothing more than your live-in personal assistant these days."_

_Sherlock frowned at both the words and the venom that seemed to be infused in them. He vaguely remembered that John had mentioned something along these lines before after they had solved Henry Knight's case but back then it had sounded more like a joke. Now though Sherlock believed he could also detect a hint of... contempt. No, that couldn't be right. Why should John blame him for the words of a scientist who had almost driven another man crazy?! Sherlock was just about to open his mouth to point as much out to his friend but John was faster._

_"Of course it's not such a far-fetched idea considering that I do all the household chores and make sure that the bills are paid. And if that isn't enough I am also tasked with taking care that no one kills you while you work on one of your little cases. No wonder that all the women I try to date think I am gay. Disgusting thought, really."_

_Sherlock's mind reeled from shock as the words hit him with the force of a sledgehammer. He had assumed that John enjoyed their lives together although he complained about minor things sometimes. There was no way that Sherlock would have ever imagined that John felt this way. He opened his mouth to say as much but what came out instead was: "Why do you still live here if you can't stand it?"_

_At that John laughed. "Oh believe me, Sherlock if I had the means to move out I would. No one would live with someone like you if they had a choice."_

_"Someone like me?" Sherlock choked out._

_"A Freak," John clarified coldly._

_The gasp escaped Sherlock against his will as the word slammed into him. It wasn't the first time that someone had called him a freak. In fact he had been seven years old when one of his classmates had thrown the insult at him for the first time. Ever since then it had followed him wherever he went. By now Sherlock should be used to it but he had never expected John to call him a freak. Not John. Not the only friend he had ever had. Not..._

Sherlock came awake with a start as he gasped for air. It took him a few seconds to get his bearings as his mind shook off the last traces of the nightmare. He was at home, in his own bed. It was night - judging from the noise level of the street and the dark room - and he had merely had a bad dream. Everything was fine. There was no need to panic. The rational approach did nothing to even out the rhythm of his heart or to stop the tears from sliding down his cheeks.

Tears!

Sherlock brought a trembling hand up to his cheek to touch the salty liquid. Pathetic, he scolded himself but couldn't stop the slow trickle of tears down his face. Nor was there any way to hold back the sob that had been lodged in his throat for some time and now broke free against his will. God, Sherlock cursed inwardly as he dug his nails into the heels of his hands and lowered his head to his chest in an attempt to get himself back under control. To cry like a little child from a nightmare was utterly unacceptable. Sherlock was only glad that he was alone and that no one was witness to this pitiable sight.

"Sherlock?"

He froze and held his breath as John's voice sounded through the door. Why was his friend up at such an hour? And why was he at his door? Had he heard something? Heat rose in Sherlock's cheeks as he imagined that he had made some kind of noises to alert John. How much worse could this night get?

Fate in its cruelty provided the answer to that question when his door was pushed open and light flooded the room a second later. Judging from John's gasp and his hurried steps through the room Sherlock was only a moment too late in turning his head away to prevent his friend from noticing his tear-streaked face.

"Sherlock?" The mattress dipped as John sat down on it. "I was in the kitchen and heard some muffled sounds. Are you... alright?"

At least that answered the question whether or not Sherlock had made any sounds in his sleep. More heat rose in his face as he flushed in shame.

"Sherlock?" Worry laced John's voice and Sherlock felt the sudden urge to hid under the covers to never emerge. Instead he took a deep breath and prayed that his voice wouldn't betray him as he pressed out one word: "Nightmare."

There that should be enough to reassure John. His friend was no stranger to nightmares himself after all and they both had experienced enough situations to fuel their nightly terrors. Hopefully John would assume that Sherlock had dreamed about the Baskerville case or the pool incident with Moriarty. It seemed certainly more acceptable to be shaken to tears from a nightmare about being chased by a giant dog than from a bad dream about his own insecurities.

Sherlock waited for John to pat him on the shoulder and mumbled some platitudes before leaving him alone now that he had made sure that Sherlock was in no danger. Seconds ticked by but John didn't leave. Carefully Sherlock turned his head in the direction of his friend thankful that at least the steady trickle of tears had finally stopped.

"I am sorry if I woke you," Sherlock offered unsure what John was expecting of him but his friend only shook his head.

"No, it's fine. I was... already up." John's voice was kept carefully neutral and Sherlock took a closer look at his friend. His hair was tousled from sleep but he didn't look relaxed like he usually did after even only a couple of hours of sleep. His shoulders were hunched and there were more lines in his face than usual so...

"You had a nightmare," Sherlock burst out and clapped his mouth shut right away. Idiot, he scolded himself. His mind had only just supplied him with all the reasons why John would eventually leave him and still he couldn't keep himself from blabbing out the first deduction that came to his mind.

Other than in his nightmare though John didn't sneer at him but only shrugged helplessly. "I am kind of used to it by now. They are less frequent than they used to be so that's at least something." Blue eyes focused searchingly on Sherlock. "But I didn't know that you are prone to nightmares as well."

The statement was infused with a question but Sherlock didn't feel like answering it especially as it would only lead to more questions and the last thing he wanted to do was discuss the nature of his nightmare with John.

"What was yours about?" Sherlock tried to shift the focus away from himself and onto his friend. As John was usually reluctant to discuss his nightmares Sherlock hoped that the question would bring their conversation to an end by making his friend leave. Not that he wanted John to leave but it would be preferable to having him so close without being allowed to touch him. Sherlock clenched his hands into the covers to prevent himself from reaching out for his friend. He couldn't risk to give away how much John had come to mean to him. And right now he didn't trust himself that one friendly touch wouldn't shatter all of his defences. If nothing else John would certainly leave him alone if Sherlock were to reveal that his feelings weren't as platonic as he made them appear.

"The pool."

John's words interrupted Sherlock's thoughts and allowed him to focus on something else. Mainly on how John shuddered at the mere mention of the night when Moriarty's game had reached the big finale.

"Up until the moment when he left and you got the bomb off me it was like in reality but then," John swallowed against an invisible lump, "The sniper shot you." John slung his arms around himself and shivered. "It was a clear headshot and... there was blood and... you were dead."

John took a shaking breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob and Sherlock was at a loss of what to do. It didn't surprise him that John had nightmares about the night at the pool but he wouldn't have expected his friend to be this distraught by a dream about Sherlock's death. Before he could question the meaning behind that a deduction sprung to his mind. "You didn't hear any noises from my room. You were upset by the nightmare and came to check on me."

John ducked his head but not before Sherlock had seen the crimson blush that stained his cheeks. He still didn't flee from the room though but instead spoke to the floor.

"I admit it was rather selfish of me to come to your room when you could have been sleeping but... I just needed to see you."

John raised his head and Sherlock almost reeled back from all the emotions that were swirling in the blue depths of his friend. He wouldn't have known where to start analyzing them if the situation had been less stressing for him.

"I think it might have been good though that I came. I mean," John scratched his head with his hand, "seeing as you were having a nightmare as well. It's always nice not to be alone after one at least that's how I feel." John grimaced at his own words and change the topic. "What was yours about?"

Sherlock's head was reeling from the onslaught of sensations. First the nightmare and now John's words and their meanings which he couldn't decipher. It was all too much for one night and the only reason why Sherlock heard himself blurt out the truth.

"You called me _Freak_."

OOO

John's eyes widened in shock at Sherlock's revelation. This wasn't what he had expected his friend to say at all. Somehow he had assumed that Sherlock's nightmares would be similar to his own. If someone had asked him what John thought his friend's nightmares were about he would have guessed on the Baskerville case. Sherlock had certainly been more distressed by the whole episode with the Hound than John had been. Probably due to him inhaling less of the gas than Sherlock had. John wouldn't have thought in a million years that Sherlock's nightmares would be so unspectacular but then again...

He frowned slightly as he recalled how often his friend had been called a freak or something similar and how he always pretended that it didn't upset him. Obviously though Sherlock was taking all these insults to heart and if he felt even a fraction of what John felt for him then it was understandable why such a nightmare had upset him so much.

"Nevermind, forget it."

John blinked himself back to the present and noticed the heat high in Sherlock's cheeks. Obviously he had interpreted John's silence as dismissive and his next words proved as much.

"It was just a silly dream and nothing in comparison to your nightmares and..."

"No Sherlock," John shook his head and met his friend's surprised gaze with a soft smile. "Firstly it's not a competition and if the dream upset you so much than it's in no way silly. Secondly," John added and dared to reach out and put a hand on Sherlock's shoulder, "I would never call you _Freak_."

Instead of relief, a haunted look entered Sherlock's eyes. "You can't be sure of that."

"Of course I can be." John barely kept himself from shouting. "You aren't a freak. You are fucking brilliant. Sometimes you can be a real arse I will give you that but you certainly aren't a freak. You are my best friend."

Dark eyes widened in surprise at the last part. "I am your best friend?"

John frowned at the disbelief and barely concealed hope in Sherlock's voice. How could he not have known? Had John held back on his affection for Sherlock so much for fear that his friend would deduce his deeper feelings for him that Sherlock hadn't even picked up on some of it?

A lump formed in John's throat at the thought and he blamed the hoarseness of his voice on it as he stroked down Sherlock's arm to cover his hand with his own. "Of course you are my best friend. Who else would it be?"

Sherlock stared at John as if he was speaking in a foreign language before his eyes flickered to where John's hand was still covering his on top of the covers. John withstood the urge to move his hand away even as drops of sweat prickled at his hairline. For one thing it was calming to feel the warmth of Sherlock's skin against his own after the nightmare he had just experienced. And then it also seemed that he had hidden his feelings for Sherlock for far too long if his friend had trouble believing that he meant a lot to him. The idea of revealing so much of his heart was a scary one but John refused to be a coward. He had survived a bullet to the shoulder so he could be open with Sherlock without trembling like a leaf. John still waited with bated breath for Sherlock's reaction which... wasn't what he had expected.

"You will grow tired of me eventually," Sherlock spoke to their hands. "No one can stand body parts in the fridge and experiments in the kitchen forever. As soon as the novelty of it wears of you will..."

John snorted. He couldn't help himself. It was just hilarious that Sherlock could deduce what he had done all day in a matter of seconds but that he also managed to miss the most obvious clues all the same. Hilarious and also sad.

"We have been living together for a year now," John informed Sherlock who looked at him in bewilderment. "I would say the novelty has long worn off. I am used to everything you just described and more. If criminal masterminds can't get me to leave a few thumbs in the freezer certainly won't do the trick."

"But," Sherlock opened his mouth to argue and John had enough. Before he could question his own actions he leaned forward and stifled Sherlock's protest with his lips. It was a brief kiss, barely more than a whisper of skin on skin before John withdrew. "I won't leave you," he repeated with more confidence than he felt while his heart hammered away in his chest.

God, he had just kissed Sherlock! It was all nice and well to decide not to hide his feelings anymore but John feared that he had just overdone it. He had only wanted to convoy to his friend that he meant quite a lot to him and not... all of his heart. John forced himself to breath calmly as Sherlock brought his hand up to his face and touched his own lips with his index finger.

"You kissed me."

John couldn't tell if Sherlock sounded only surprised or also accusatory. "Not good?" He finally dared to ask after Sherlock kept staring at him for what felt like hours.

"No, it's," Sherlock licked his lips, "It's fine."

"Just fine?" John couldn't keep the disappointment out of his voice although a part of him was urging him to shut up before he ruined everything.

Sherlock worried his lower lip between his teeth and somehow John took hope from seeing that his friend was just as nervous as he was.

"It depends on what your intent behind the kiss was," Sherlock finally ventured and John felt like his heart was going to jump right out of its ribcage.

Part of him wanted to make up some innocent excuse and then flee from the room while John also felt the need to be honest with Sherlock. God, that hadn't been what he had imagined when he had come to his friend's room after his horrible nightmare. John had only wanted to see Sherlock and maybe touch his shoulder to convince himself that his friend was still alive. Revealing his feelings to Sherlock and kissing him certainly hadn't been on his to-do list for tonight. Nevertheless it was too late now to back paddle. If he lied to Sherlock then he might miss his only chance to come out to him. Besides it didn't seem likely that Sherlock would throw him out if John told him how he felt. Not after Sherlock had just revealed how much John's friendship meant to him. There was still a chance that John would get rejected but if he didn't take that risk he would never know.

Having made up his mind John straightened his spine and took a deep breath before all the words tumbled out of his mouth. "I initially kissed you because I couldn't bear to listen to you doubting our friendship and yourself like this but," John hurried on just when Sherlock's face fell, "I would be lying if I said that this was the only reason though. I have wanted to kiss you for a long time now."

"Why?" Sherlock sounded absolutely bewildered by the idea.

John didn't know if it was because of a general disinterest in kissing on his friend's part or because he couldn't imagine that someone wanted to kiss him. He wasn't sure which option he preferred.

"Because I," John interrupted himself, took in the confused and yet hopeful expression of his friend and forced the words out before he could think better of it. "Because I love you."

Sherlock's eyes widened for a split second and John held his breath as he waited for him to say something.

"What does that mean?"

John blinked at the question. That certainly wasn't the answer he had expected to his love confession. He was just about to take it all back and tell his friend to delete the incident when the expression on Sherlock's face gave him pause. It wasn't the paleness of his skin or the traces of tears on his cheeks that made John reconsider his decision. Not even the trembling lips of his friend could have convinced him to stay. But the lost and almost fearful look in his eyes was enough to give John the courage to go on.

"It means," John edged closer to Sherlock and enclosed his hand in both of his own, "that I always want to be with you. No matter if that means that we are watching trash TV on the couch or having a stake-out during a thunderstorm. I want all of that. Hell I," John hesitated for a second but then decided to go all in. "I want to kiss and hold you and wake up in the morning in bed with you. I want to bicker with you about who drank the last milk and who's turn it is to do the laundry. I want... I want all of you. It's that simple." John took a deep breath when his lungs reminded him that he needed some air and then looked expectantly at Sherlock.

"I," his friend opened his mouth and then closed it again as he shook his head. "I don't know what to say."

"Maybe you could tell me if that's something you want as well." John congratulated himself on how calm his voice sounded while he was barely holding it together inside. He didn't know if he would survive a rejection from Sherlock. Probably not.

"Yes but," Sherlock held on John's hand like it was a lifeline as a trembling breath fell from his lips, "I don't want you to grow sick of me. If we were... a couple then your expectations of me would be higher and I couldn't live up to them and then..."

"Shush!" John pressed the index finger of his left hand to Sherlock's lips while he intertwined the fingers of his other hand with his friend's. "I wouldn't expect you to change if we were a couple. I would still expect body parts in the fridge and experiments in the kitchen. And I would certainly grow worried if I didn't need to stitch you back together at least once a month." John winked at Sherlock and traced his lip with his finger. "We might argue and I might need to go for a walk sometimes to calm down but I will certainly never grow tired of you. I am certain of that."

OOO

Sherlock stared at John in disbelief. No one had ever said something even vaguely similar to him and yet his friend looked absolutely serious. There was no doubt in his eyes as he met Sherlock's gaze calmly. He truly meant what he had just said which included that he loved Sherlock.

Sherlock blinked slowly as he tried to process this monumental revelation. He had never doubted that his friend liked him but to find out that his own feelings were reciprocated was a different matter all together.

_"Why don't you tell John how you feel about him then?"_

Sherlock frowned at the question that his own mind had thrown at him. Why, indeed? The answer was simple: because he was afraid. It would be so easy to fall into John's arms and kiss him and yet his own fear was holding him back. There was no guarantee that John would still feel the same way in a month or two. He might still grow tired of Sherlock despite what he was telling him now and Sherlock wasn't sure if he would survive a break-up. Then again if he didn't give them a chance he would never know if they could have made it work.

Sherlock gulped and forced the words part his lips although he wasn't sure if they could even be heard over his pounding heart. "I love you, too."

The bright smile that lit up John's face was already worth all the pain that might come his way and Sherlock felt his own lips twitch up in response. "And I want everything you just described as well."

John squeezed his hand. "Does this mean I can kiss you now?"

"You _may_," Sherlock allowed with a wink and felt John's laughter as his friend's lips found his.

John tasted of sleep and toothpaste and Sherlock filled that information away in his Mind Palace as he drew his friend - lover - closer. He would have to open a new wing in his Mind Palace to store how John tasted at different times of the day - and night. It would have to be a big wing as Sherlock intended to catalogue every part of John by taste. He was just considering if it would be too fast if he suggested some activities that wouldn't only allow him to gather more data about John but also allow him to get closer to his lover when his body made the decision for him.

The yawn took Sherlock as much by surprise as John who giggled and then withdrew. "It seems that your transport demands some sleep."

Heat crept into Sherlock's cheeks as he cleared his throat. "It's a little demanding at times."

"If you wouldn't keep up for days on end," John started but then shook his head and smiled fondly at Sherlock. "I am tired myself. We should both get some sleep."

John made as if to get up but Sherlock held onto his hand and only shrugged when John gave him a searching look. "There is a bed right here. We could share it?" Sherlock hated how unsure his voice sounded but he relaxed again when John smiled fondly at him.

"I will just turn off the light."

Sherlock nodded and a few seconds later the room was wrapped in darkness. There was some shuffling heard as John made his way over to the bed and then the mattress dipped as he climbed in.

Sherlock inched a little closer to the middle of the bed but then stopped. He didn't have enough data to figure out if John liked to cuddle or if he rather kept his space when sharing a bed with someone.

"Can I hold you?" As usual John showed bravery when Sherlock couldn't find it in himself.

"Of course, you can."

"_May _I then?" John chuckled behind him even as he inched closer to him until his chest was pressed to Sherlock's back.

"I wasn't... I didn't mean to correct you this time," Sherlock stuttered.

"Shush, I know," John's arms closed around him and drew him close until they were pressed together from chest to legs, "I was just joking."

Sherlock relaxed and pressed a kiss to John's hand that had come to rest on his chest. "Goodnight, John."

"Sleep well, Love."

Sherlock's eyes closed of their own accord as he snuggled up into John's embrace. Originally he had intended to stay awake and fill away every moment of this night in his lover's arms but his body had different ideas. Enfolded in John's embrace and surrounded by his scent Sherlock fell asleep in a matter of seconds. Certain in the knowledge that no nightmares would plague him as long as he had John by his side.


End file.
